Fifteen.
He walks me home but doesn't say much.
I don't, either.
I wouldn't know where to start.
He tells me he followed me to make sure I was okay, that he saw the men crawling along in a car behind me, and the moment they got out. He tells me I should call the police. It's not the way things work around here.
I tell him I will, but I won't. I tell him I was fine, that I am fine, that I can walk the rest of the way once we hit the edge of the estate. I've never been ashamed of where I'm from, but around him I feel exposed, as if my wallpaper has been peeled back, showing my true substance.
And I've never been ashamed of my actions, my recklessness, but there's always a first, and tonight is it.
I tell him again I'll be okay.
He doesn't listen.
He walks me to my door.
Under the lights, I see his eye is swollen. A reminder of the reason I got myself into this mess.
"We need to talk about what that was earlier," I say.
He chews on his lip and tilts his head. "Now?"
The sound of laughter comes from the flat, Mum is in, and maybe with company. I'm cold and exhausted, and though spending more time with him is more appealing than facing whatever is behind the door, I concede it's not the best idea. "Tomorrow?"
He shrugs. "Sure. I'll see you at school?"
"Yeah. I'll be there." I scratch a bit of peeling blue paint off the door, reluctant to let him go. "You won't say anything to anyone about what happened?"
"Who is there to tell other than you?"
He's sure and fierce with his honesty. I've the urge to go to him, to be back pressed against him, safe beside the weight and warmth of his presence. I rock on my heels but don't move. The rules seem different now that the danger is gone.
"Okay, well … I would invite you in but my mum—"
"No worries. I'd better go anyway. You sure you're okay, though?"
"Yeah," I lie.
He spends a moment too long looking at me before he's satisfied I'm not about to crumble. Then he turns and walks away, throwing one last look over his shoulder to check I've gone inside.
I haven't. "Thank you," I say, halting him in his steps.
He turns around, but keeps walking backwards, the habitual lighter flickering on and off in his hand. "Just remember what I said when we first met."
I frown, trying to remember. Everything before this night seems so long ago and blurry.
"Be careful," he reminds me, before disappearing around the corner. I rest my head on the door, the noise of the TV drifting around its edges, and smile.
AN: Kim made this pretty, but I've been messing so all mistakes are mine.